


For You In Full Blossom

by minhonew



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 15:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5379470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minhonew/pseuds/minhonew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guy scoffs at the gaping Harry and places the shoes on top of his head before pushing him aside to enter the classroom. “If there is a pair of shoes inside the box, that usually means that it is already taken, Curly.”</p><p>Harry twists around, ignoring the round of merry laughter at his expense, eyes rounded in awe as he catches the retreating form of the young man. One of his shoes fall to the floor from his head and he pays it no mind. “He’s here,” he murmurs to himself. “Zayn Malik.”</p><p>Or</p><p>A Hana Kimi (Japanese) Zayn/Harry AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For You In Full Blossom

**Author's Note:**

> Few things to know before reading:
> 
> -This is not beta-edited nor britpicked.  
> -I'm trying to stick to the original series, so a few of the practices in here are based solely on Japanese Boarding Schools, like taking their shoes off before classes, etc.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this! x

_"Whilst there are many types of **daisies**  available around the world, they each have one thing in common – they symbolise that of a  **new beginning**."_

 

“That’s the last of ‘em, lad,” the cabbie informs his young passenger, carefully lowering the last of the lad’s suitcases to the ground. He gets a wide grin in return of his efforts and an exact fare in his palm. He smiles back and tips his hat with a, “Thank you.”

“Have a nice day, Sir,” the young man bids him with a happy wave of his hand, watching as the cab driver pushes himself inside the car and then driving away. He takes a deep breath and turns on his heels to look at the looming building behind him. It is quite old, but meticulously well-kept, with carefully trimmed ivy growing on a third of the brick walls. The double doors are a rich, dark brown cherry wood with a big, rusted circular handle. The area surrounding the school is vast and peaceful, a healthy green with its grassy meadows and tall trees, which is quite a rare sight for the young man, who grew up to the familiar riot of bright city lights and busy, buzzing streets. On the side is an enormous water fountain with four horse statues, carved marvelously as though they are alive and will gallop in the blink of an eye. Terribly impressive.

Fully immersed in his observations, the young man misses the loud creak of the door as it is pushed open, a middle-aged man appearing from the inside seconds later. The man squints against the sunlight, seeing an unfamiliar boy, clad in their school’s uniform, with traveling cases scattered around his feet in their courtyard. He approaches the young man slowly, making sure to catch his attention first. “Good day, gentleman,” he calls out. “How may I help you?”

Startled, the lad visibly jumps, wide eyes settling on the person who called him. “Erm. My name’s Harry. Styles. Harry Styles,” he pauses, scratches the back of his head sheepishly, “I got my acceptance letter from Mr. Cowell a couple of weeks ago but I had some loose ends that needed tying up that’s why I haven’t been able to attend the orientation.”

“Ah. That’s quite alright. Your prefect or roommate can do the explaining for you. Besides, today is only the first day of classes, you haven’t missed much.” The man smiles kindly and takes the last two steps, easily picking up two out of the four bags that Harry has with him. “Welcome to Queen Ethelburga’s College, Mr. Styles. I’m Paul Higgins, the housemaster.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sir.”

Paul couldn’t help but return the lad’s beaming smile with a grin of his own. “Pleasure’s all mine, lad. C’mon, lunch break ends in about half an hour, you can attend your afternoon classes after eating.”

Harry follows Paul into the office of the admissions for his timetable, his steps slow as he marvels at the interior beauty of the school’s main building. For all that the outside is of old world charm, the inside is, without a doubt, splashed with a touch of modernity. An intricately elegant chandelier is the very first one to greet you, hanging on the ceiling in the middle of the lobby. The floors are of polished marble, almost sparkling in its shine. The walls are painted in soft blues, matching the rather large bas relief of the school’s emblem sculpted behind the long stretch of the receptionist’s desk. Potted plants of different varieties are scattered around as well, tucked in sharp corners of the area. Harry grins at the huge pair of bean bags situated on either side of what looks like one of the comfiest sofa ever. There is a glass coffee table in front of the couch, too, a few magazines tossed on top of it.

“Good afternoon,” the lady behind the desk greets, her face a complete opposite with her greeting. She looks weary, her hair messy with some of the dirty blonde strands escaping the confines of her bun. Her glasses are askew on her face and she pushes it with her pointer finger when Paul and Harry reach her. Harry drops his rucksack on the floor while Paul keeps his grip on the ones in his hand. “Is this the very last student?” she asks Paul.

“Yes,” Paul confirms with a nod. “Harry Styles.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Harry says, smiling at her. He reads _Caroline Flack, Admissions_ on the small nameplate that is pinned to her blazer.

Caroline gives him a small smile in return and starts tapping away on her keyboard. There is the familiar sound of a printer doing its job before she passes the paper to Harry. His timetable, apparently. She ducks down then and fiddles with a drawer underneath her desk, pulling out a thick student handbook and a few more sheets of paper. She hands them all to Harry as well, rattling off what each one is supposed to be. “This is your student manual, school map, dorm contract, cafeteria questionnaire, club application form, and ID application form.”

“Erm.”

“Make sure to have them filled up and signed before the end of the day, alright? I would ask you to do them now but it is lunch break and you need to eat.”

Harry shakes his head. “It’s quite alright, actually. I have eaten before I came here,” he tells her. “I will finish this and then go to class.”

Caroline shares a look with Paul before nodding at Harry. “If you’re sure.”

“Positive.”

A rumbling chuckle comes from Paul and he puts a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder. He already has Harry’s suitcases on the floor. “Alright, lad. I better go and inform your teacher of your arrival. See you around, Mr. Styles.”

“Bye, Mr. Higgins!”

Harry watches Paul turn a corner and then disappear before looking back at Caroline. She is back to her earlier task, but she looks a bit calmer now, less rumpled. He shrugs and nicks one of the pens that are conveniently placed on top of the counter. He makes quick work of the forms, signing where his signature is needed and truthfully answering the questionnaire regarding his food allergies, if he had any, and his preferred diet. He dutifully writes all the right information onto the ID card application form and indicates his wish to be part of the track team onto the club one. When it comes down to the dorm contract, Harry’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Ms. Flack, what is my dorm number?”

“Just sign at the bottom for that one, hun,” Caroline tells him with a kind smile. “I will be the one to fill out the dorm and room number once you’ve had your choice.”

“I get to choose which dorm I get to live in?” Harry replies, eyes wide. “There’s no need to answer a questionnaire or something?”

“Yes.” Caroline grins and nods. She looks pretty, Harry notes absentmindedly. “In Queen’s, the boys and girls are separated by buildings and buildings only. Classes, breaks and extracurricular activities are done together. There are 3 dorm numbers to choose from: 1, 2 and 3. There is nothing significant with the numbers, really, just that you are free to choose whichever.”

Harry pulls his lower lip between his teeth, a wrinkle on his forehead. “Do we, erm, have roommates?”

“Yes, of course. Each room can have two occupants.”

“I see.”

After signing his dorm contract, Harry hands the papers to Caroline, making sure to leave his student handbook and school map. She thanks him and stores the forms in their proper filing cabinet. She opens a small partition of the counter, gesturing for Harry to enter. “You can leave your things here first and when you have chosen your dorm number, Paul can bring them to your room.”

“Alright.” Harry drags his heavy bags to the other side of the counter and tucks them in the very corner of the space. From his rucksack, he pulls out his daily planner and a pen to take down notes. After making sure that he’s prepared to attend classes, he goes back out to the other side of the counter.

“Ready to go to class?” Caroline asks Harry, her pen momentarily paused over paper. She pushes her glasses up, eyeing a fidgeting Harry with slight confusion.

Harry clears his throat. “Erm, do you, uh, well…Nevermind.” He starts backing away then, sending Caroline a small smile before practically sprinting away, his school shoes squeaking against the marble floors. Harry is hardly paying attention to where he is going and is soon colliding with another body. The taller of the two chokes out a pained huff while Harry falls flat on his arse with an indignant yelp.

“I’m so sorry!” Harry squeaks, jumping up and bowing his head in shame.

The man pats Harry’s head. “S’cool, man,” he says, sincere. There is an amused grin on his lips as he gives Harry a once over. “Next time, just pay more attention to where you’re going.”

Harry lifts his head, seeing a man in a lab coat. He is tall with an even taller dark hair. Underneath his coat, he has on a black button up and jeans. “Will do.”

“Are you new here?” The guy asks Harry.

“I just got in today,” Harry answers. “My name’s Harry Styles.”

“I’m Nick Grimshaw, the school doctor.” Nick extends his hand towards Harry, which the younger man shakes enthusiastically, chirping an earnest, “It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Grimshaw.”

Nick makes a face at Harry’s politeness and waves a hand in dismissal. “Call me Grimmy, Mr. Styles. Dr. Grimshaw sounds very old and I reckon our age isn’t that far apart.”

Harry laughs softly. He likes Grimmy already, just like how he likes Caroline and Paul. Now, he can only hope that his new schoolmates are as nice as these people. “Only if you call me Harry.”

“Deal.”

They shake hands once more to seal their deal and then Nick glances at his watch. “Now, I don’t want you to panic but classes has started five minutes ago, Harry,” he says.

With wide eyes, Harry checks his own wristwatch, only to confirm that Nick is right. Bloody hell, he’s been nothing but late ever since he transferred to this school. He drops Nick’s hand and starts walking backwards, waving goodbye to his new friend. “I’ll see you around, Grimmy!”

“Don’t forget to put your shoes in the shoe racks, Harry! Shoes are prohibited inside classrooms,” Nick informs him as he runs. Harry manages a thumbs up in his haste, soon enough disappearing from Nick’s view and leaving the older man to shake his head fondly and say, “That kid sure is something else.”

Meanwhile, Harry has reached the open room where the shoe racks are located. He steps inside and looks around, gaping at the sight of four massive open cabinets full of different school shoes. They are wooden and huge and if Harry is pressed to estimate, they can probably hold around 20 to 25 pairs of shoes each. He groans then, realizing that he is wasting time describing a bloody shoe cabinet, and mentally scolds himself. Hurriedly, he takes his shoes off and tries to locate the racks for the boys’ shoes, bypassing two adjacent cabinets for the girls. He scans the space for any empty box, his eyes frantic because he is almost ten minutes late for his class. He ends his fruitless search with a careless shrug and squishes his new, sort of uncomfortable, leather shoes into a random box, hoping only for the best.

 

 

 

 

❀❀❀❀❀

 

 

 

 

“Students, please settle down.” Mr. Winston hits his palm against the table twice to get his students’ attention. He has just stepped out for a moment to greet his new student and now he’s about to introduce him to his fellow classmates, if they could just calm down so he can do so. “We have a new student outside. He’s from the US. I hope you lot treat him well, alright?”

“Yes, Mr. Winston.”

Satisfied, Mr. Winston heads out to fetch the student, unaware of the brewing scheme that is being concocted as he gets the newcomer. Inside the classroom, a petite brunette with blue grey eyes stands up, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Oi oi,” he hollers, throwing a football up and then catching it again. Every student looks at him, some curious while some are wearing devious smiles. “An American has come to our beloved school! I wonder if he’s ripped with them bulging muscles and tan?”

A blonde girl with sparkling blue eyes sighs dreamily. Dramatically, she drapes herself all over her seatmate, throwing the back of her hand against her forehead. “A prince charming maybe? Tall, dark and handsome.”

“Pez, no offense but I truly don’t understand you and your ideals,” a pretty dark-skinned girl scoffs, pushing her friend’s hair away from her face and then tugging on her arm. “I seriously doubt the newcomer is like that. I mean there’s a lot of boarding school located in better places than this poor excuse of a town. I reckon he’s one of ‘em nerdy losers with nowhere else to go.”

“With a cowboy accent, eww,” someone from the last row pipes in, making a disgusted face. This comment earns a couple of agreeing nods from girls and boys alike.

The very first student who stood up laughs loudly. “Alright,” he says quickly. “It doesn’t matter what he looks like, yeah?”

The blond boy beside the brunette snickers and says, “Yeah, Lou!”

“You all know what to do.”

In this exact moment, Mr. Winston comes in with Harry in tow. Every single student gapes at the newcomer, taking in his features. The new student is tall and lanky, not ripped at all, a mop of dark brown curls brushing the tops of his shoulders and held back by a dark green bandana of sorts. So very unlike to what the students are expecting, the lad is rather pale skinned and green-eyed with a tall nose and pink, pouty lips.

Harry clears his throat and stands straight, pushing his shoulders back and unwilling to let the students’ stares intimidate him. “My name’s Harry Styles,” his voice cracks in the end of his surname and he looks mortified as he continues, “Please treat me, uh, well.”

So much for appearing cool.

The whole class erupts in giggles and snickers. “He’s totally British! That accent!” The same blond boy from earlier says in between guffaws, clutching his stomach in glee. The brunette beside him nods furiously, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes and adding, “He’s so pale, too! When was the last time you got out of your coffin, vampy?”

An indignant expression passes through Harry’s features and he resists the thought of crossing his arms and stomping his foot. Behind Harry, Mr. Winston clicks his tongue rather loudly. “Enough of that, Tomlinson,” he scolds the brunette, who doesn’t immediately shut up and instead starts conversing with his friend in mock whispers. The teacher gives up with a long suffering sigh and then glances at the door, seeing a fellow faculty member calling him from behind the small glass window. He pats Harry’s shoulder and says, “I’ll be stepping out for a bit to see what Mrs. Watson wants. Please behave yourselves. Mr. Styles, you can sit anywhere you like.”

Harry nods and looks around for an empty seat. The classroom is fairly big with black plastic armchairs and cream colored walls and it is spacious enough for a class of 20 students or so. There are glass windows on the right side, curtain-less, letting a bit of the natural light in. Except for the armchairs, teacher’s table and chair, a whiteboard and a speaker system, which is mounted on top of the whiteboard, there are no other furniture inside the room. After a couple of minutes, Harry finally sees an empty seat next to a guy with shaggy dirty blond hair, two rows behind loud brunette and blond, and feels himself relax, thinking about how they wouldn’t be able to mess with him if he sits far from them. He walks towards the seat and rejoices for making it without any interruption, whatsoever. Well, that is true until the skinny dark-haired young man on his right sticks his socked foot out and trips him. Harry yelps as he falls to the floor, face first, his planner skidding a few feet away from him.

Laughter erupts the second time inside the classroom as Harry picks himself up off the floor. He rubs his smarting forehead gently and frowns. He crawls over to where his planner lay, picking it up and hugging it against his chest. He stands up and glares at the guy who tripped him with no apparent reason.

“That’s our way of welcoming students here.” The guy shrugs, looking entirely unapologetic about the whole thing that Harry shudders to know how many students had befallen the same fate as him. The blond from earlier has leaned over and shares a high five with him, saying, “Nice one, Troye.”

By now, the rambunctious brunette, Tomlinson, is standing in front of Harry, grinning widely. His brilliant eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Welcome to Queen Ethelburga’s College, Styles.”

Harry glares hotly at him. “Sod off,” he mutters, angry and hurt. He wonders why their teacher is taking so long to come back and that this must be one of the worst first day of class, for a student, in the history of boarding schools. He pushes past Tomlinson and drops his planner on top of his desk. He is about to plop down the seat when the door opens. A sudden hushed silence falls over the classroom with the students thinking that Mr. Winston is back. It isn’t.

There is a pair of familiar leather shoes on the doorway, dangling by a hand. Harry gasps when he recognizes the pair as his. He scrambles out of his seat and jogs over to the door. “Those are mine,” he informs the person holding his shoes. He stops short, though, breath rattling in his chest, as he takes in the jet black hair, which is shorter now than the last time he has seen him, amber eyes framed by thick eyelashes, sharp cheekbones, nose piercing and full lips. Harry stares at the other’s brooding expression, couldn’t help it really, and feels butterflies frolicking in his stomach.

The guy scoffs at the gaping Harry and places the shoes on top of his head before pushing him aside to enter the classroom. “If there is a pair of shoes inside the box, that usually means that it is already taken, Curly.”

Harry twists around, ignoring the round of merry laughter at his expense, eyes rounded in awe as he catches the retreating form of the young man. One of his shoes fall to the floor from his head and he pays it no mind. “He’s here,” he murmurs to himself. “Zayn Malik.”

Zayn frowns upon seeing a stupidly yellow planner on top of his desk. He definitely does not own such an offending piece of school supply. Harry snaps out of his trance just in time to witness Zayn push his planner out of the desk. It plops down sadly onto the floor for the second time that day.

“That’s mine!” Harry informs loudly, annoyed by the rudeness displayed by the uncaring Zayn. He grabs both of his shoes and walks toward the guy. He picks his planner up and cradles it against his chest. “That’s my seat.”

The response from Zayn is an eye roll that probably induces headache from how hard it was and an audible scoff. “This seat is mine,” Zayn says evenly, propping his small book bag on top of the table for emphasis.

Indignantly, Harry huffs. “Oh, please. It’s not like you wrote your name on that chair or summat.”

Zayn points to the very corner of the desk where a tiny _Zayn_ is carved out. The girls all giggle at that.

“Rude!”

An embarrassed flush spreads on Harry’s cheeks and, finally, with one last glare directed at bloody Zayn Malik, he walks away. He spots an empty seat beside a kind-looking boy and decides that if this boy treats him well enough, he’ll be baptizing the piece of plastic with his name in the nearest future, which will probably be tomorrow or the day after that. He sits down with a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. Today is only his first day and he is already feeling a bit of regret for his reckless decision-making that led him to this. He hopes fervently that none of this will last the whole term or he’ll probably won’t finish what he has set out to do in the first place.

Suddenly, there is a hesitant poke to his side that has Harry breaking from his thoughts and curling into himself. He turns his head, ready to defend himself against another attack to his fragile self-esteem and sees a kind smile and warm eyes regarding him instead.

“Hello,” his seatmate says. “I’m Liam Payne.”

Harry takes the offered hand and shakes it firmly, smiling shyly at the boy. “Pleasure to meet you, mate. I’m Harry.”

Liam Payne, Harry decides, is an okay lad, proper ace, especially when he guides Harry throughout the afternoon with seemingly infinite patience and understanding smiles. Together, the two of them had no trouble navigating the endless halls of Queen’s with the latter giving a bit of commentary about each room or area. Harry has taken some notes about things, half-heartedly so, because he is quite frankly much more interested in the beauty that is his new school. So far, the hour-long tour has Harry see a dance studio, the clinic, gym number 1, an indoor pool and a greenhouse. He has also gotten a glimpse of a dog house and that alone has Harry excited beyond belief. He loves dogs.

Right now, though, they are having their dinner break and Harry is sitting with Liam, feasting on mashed potato and some roasted chicken. Harry is honestly floored by the incredible meal offered by the school. As they eat, Liam is keeping up the conversation while Harry listens dutifully, his eyes trained on the dining hall door, as the bloke rattles on about proper uniform guidelines.

“Socks should be white and folded 2 inches above the ankle…”

Harry hears Liam saying when the door swings open and Zayn saunters in, looking quite relaxed with his batman t-shirt and sweats that slung low on his hips. Trailing behind Zayn are the loud brunette and blond from Harry’s classes. The two are conversing quite animatedly and sometimes even try to engage Zayn in their bickering. Harry sighs, a little wistful, and follows their movements with his eyes.

“What dorm is Zayn Malik in?” he asks suddenly.

Liam eyes him from the rim of his glass, gulping down half of his water. He raises an eyebrow at his friend, whose gaze is settled some place far away. “Zayn is on Dorm 1, Haz. Why do you ask?” One more thing awesome about Liam is that he has taken Harry so completely under his wing that only an hour into their friendship, Harry already has a nickname. It’s adorable and Harry is thrilled to be mates with someone as kind as Liam Payne.

“I’m just wondering, Liam,” Harry replies, going for nonchalant even though, inside, he’s practically itching to tell Ms. Flack at Admissions that Dorm 1, for him, is the place to be.

“I’m in Dorm 1 myself.”

Liam stands up then, picking his and Harry’s tray before making his way to where the rubbish bins are and disposing of their leftovers. Meanwhile, Harry is caught staring at Zayn by none other than the Tomlinson kid. He ducks his head fast, pretends to be busy with his planner and completely misses the mischievous grin that stretches the brunette’s lips. Tomlinson whispers something in his blond companion’s ear and they both chuckle loudly, the sound being carried over to Harry, who winces, hoping that their manic laughter doesn’t have anything to do with him. Zayn, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to pay any attention to the two.

“Hey, do you mind?” Harry lifts his head up and sees a shock of honest to god orange hair and pale skin. He nods at the beaming guy and he drops down the seat that Liam is yet to occupy again.

“My name’s Edward Sheeran,” the guy introduces himself with a handshake. “The lad’s call me Ed, though.”

“Harry Styles,” Harry responds. He considers telling Ed that Liam calls him Haz but decides against it, wanting the nickname just between him and Liam and future close friends.

“I’ve heard about you. You had a band, yeah? Won in some battle of the bands in the US?”

Ah, those were the days. Harry feels his chest swell with pride at remembering his former band and bandmates, all of whom he misses dearly. Haydn, Nick and Will are simply some of the best people that Harry has had the opportunity of knowing. Harry grins at Ed, dimples out on full force. “Yeah, I was in a band,” he says. “White Eskimo.”

“Ace name, mate.”

Harry laughs. This Ed bloke is pretty chill but totally cool. “Those were the days, man.”

“I can imagine, say Harry,” Ed pauses and rubs his chin, thoughtful. “I think you are an okay lad, the hair is, like, proper rockstar, mate. What do you say about joining us in Dorm 2?”

“What?”

“I’m the head of Dorm 2,” Ed tells him. “We’re quite chill and stuff, jamming along to tunes and whatnot. I reckon you’ll fit in quite nicely with the lot of us.”

Harry gropes for the gentlest way of letting Ed down. As opposed to the other’s hopeful eyes, Harry’s expression is quite funny with this half-grimace, half-constipated smile going on. “You see, erm, Ed I’ve already chosen a dorm for myself,” he watches as Ed’s smile falters slightly, “Thank you so much for the offer, though. It was truly nice of you to think highly of me. I’m flattered.”

Ed sighs softly and stands up. He pats Harry’s shoulder gently. “It’s cool, bro. I understand. You’re welcome to stop by our floor anytime, alright? We can listen to some tunes and maybe watch films, yeah?”

“Sure, no problem. I’d love that.”

“As I’ve said, you’re quite cool and I’d like for us to be mates.”

With a parting wave, Ed heads out of the dining hall just as Liam wanders back to their table. He raises an eyebrow at Harry, questioning, no doubt having witnessed the exchange.

“What did Ed want, Haz?”

“Wanted me to join their dorm.”

Harry stands up and, together, they both exit the dining hall. Harry turns the very first corner and Liam follows.

“So will you?” Liam asks after a while. “Join Dorm 2, I mean.”

“Nah, I’ve already chosen.”

“What—“

The two stop in their tracks when they see a figure sprawled on the floor in front of them. Harry notices a brightly colored hair underneath a cape reminiscent of one worn by the main character of The Phantom of the Opera. Behind Harry, Liam presses his palm against his forehead, exasperated. A few seconds later, more people dressed primly, like they are attending prom, filter through the opposite sides of the hallway.

Harry is so confused, watching with big eyes as the prone figure lying on the floor stands up and does a series of twirls and skips before approaching him with a flair, sweeping his hand in the air and then flipping his cape afterwards. The guy is wearing a mask, half of his face hidden underneath it. Without any form of permission, whatsoever, he runs his finger on Harry’s hair and Harry is too stunned to react or he would’ve shoved the guy away from him.

“Harry Styles, Harry Styles, Harry Styles,” the unknown person recites. “Such luxurious locks deserve a luxurious life of dance and theater.”

Liam grabs a fistful of Harry’s uniform waistcoast, tugging on it. “Let’s go, Harry.”

“I am Tyler Oakley, the oh-so-talented head of Dorm 3,” Masked man, now known as Tyler, announces. He slings an arm around Harry’s shoulders and pulls him close to stage whisper, “Dorm 3 is where the beautiful and the elegant are.”

The other dorm 3 occupants, Harry assumes now, are pairing up and starting to slow dance, making use of their imagination to turn the hall into a ballroom one. Tyler tugs on Harry’s hand. “You can be one of us, Harry Styles. Your beauty fits right with ours.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry slips his hand away from Tyler’s. He takes a step back, faltering slightly when the movement around him comes to an abrupt halt and all eyes fall on him. He hides behind Liam. “I’m sorry but I can’t choose dorm 3.”

Tyler looks affronted. “Why not? We could use someone like you for our future productions. Imagine yourself as a Prince in Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, The Little Prince, etc. etc.”

“I’m honestly flattered,” Harry grabs both of Liam’s shoulders and attempts to curl in on himself. “But, no.”

“Whatever,” Tyler huffs, clapping his hands until his dorm 3 members all fall into a single line. “You will regret this sooner or later, Harry Styles.” With that, they all file out and away from Harry and Liam.

Liam lets out a loud exhale. “Dorm 3,” is all that he says next, as if that is explanation enough for what just happened.

“Yeah, dorm 3,” Harry agrees grimly.

The journey now to the admissions office is uneventful. Harry and Liam do not bother with small talk and instead walk with purpose to where Harry’s bags are. They reach the place within a few more minutes and Caroline greets them both with a kind smile. “Mr. Styles, I assume you’ve chosen where you’ll be living in the next couple of months?”

“Yes. I’d like to be in Dorm 1, please, Ms. Flack.”

Caroline nods and pulls out Harry’s dorm contract, stamping a big _Dorm 1_ on it. She then proceeds to type something out on her desktop computer, squinting against the harsh light. A couple of minutes have passed when she seems to have found what she was looking for and scribbles it onto the paper. Next, she passes Harry a key.

“Here’s the key to your room, Mr. Styles.”

Harry reads _Room 104_ on the tag just as Liam peers over his shoulder to have a look at it as well.

“I think I remember who is in that dorm as well,” Liam wonders out loud. His expression slips into one of thought.

Harry thanks Caroline and she tells him that Paul will be bringing his bags over to the room in a few minutes.

Liam snaps his fingers as the two of them walk towards the dorm building. “Ah, mate, our rooms are really close by.”

“Yeah?”

“Andy and I have 106.”

“Sick,” Harry whistles. “Andy’s your roomie then?”

“Yeah, mate. He’s also my childhood friend. He’s awesome. You’ll like him.”

Harry pulls his friend closer in a one-armed hug, grinning. “If he’s anything like you, I don’t doubt that.”

The dorm building, Harry notices, is pretty much the same as the main one—old but well-kept. It doesn’t have any ivy on its walls, but there is a large variety of flora on the landscape in front of it. Harry is excited to see all of these flowers by morning, surely they must be quite the sight. To his right, Harry sees a magnificent willow tree. Overjoyed, he starts planning his future afternoons under it with a thermos of piping hot tea, reading his novels or writing his pieces. Currently, the two students are walking up a concrete path illuminated by tall, old-fashioned streetlamps. They enter another cherry wood door and Harry takes one good look around and already feels at home.

Liam notices Harry’s relaxed demeanor and smiles to himself. “Pretty sick, right?” he then asks his friend, who nods quite eagerly. He points to the spacious den, which is complete with a brick fireplace, big bean bags and a large couch filled with tons of fluffy-looking pillows. “Here you have the living room,” Liam says in his best imitation of a news anchor’s voice. “Notice the huge telly, bookshelf complete with books, films and video games and the reliable fireplace that warms even the harshest of winters.”

Harry laughs heartily, nodding as he looks around the things that Liam is describing.

“Take a good look at the scattering of clouds, erm, I mean bean bags. Those colors! Oh my God. Impressive, eh?”

“Very much so,” Harry agrees with another chuckle.

Liam, satisfied with his tour guiding abilities, links his arms with Harry’s, leading him towards the rooms. They both stop in front of room 104. “Here you are, Haz.”

This is it, Harry thinks. However, before he can let Liam go, there’s one more thing he has to do. Harry gathers his friend in a hug, grateful beyond belief for being his very first friend in this foreign environment. “Thanks an awful lot, Li.”

“You’re welcome, bro.” Liam pats Harry’s back gently, adding, “Oh! I remember now. Your roommate is—“

“Shut up, Liam Payne. I’m trying to sleep.” The angry grumble is from Harry’s new roommate, who has swung the door open upon hearing Harry and Liam’s voices floating from in front of it.

Harry twists in his friend’s arms, jaw dropping as he comes face to face with a familiar golden gaze and smolder. “Z-Zayn.”

 

 


End file.
